Chapter 95
Chapter 95
T he last time we held a reception at Freetown things did not go as planned, so our security for this one was a bit over the top. The wedding party walked from the chapel to the reception. Winding path. Cool evening. Summer clung so tightly to me I couldn’t tell where she stopped and I started. Which I liked. When Summer and I married, she gave me a gift. A most precious gift. She gave me an empty picture frame and then filled it with the image of herself. Live. A priceless offering. And just like last time, without notice, she pulled me into our private little room where someone had lit candles. A bottle of champagne sat on ice and a small box sat wrapped in red paper on the table.
I surveyed the room. “I didn’t think we were exchanging gifts at Casey and Camp’s wedding.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I must have missed that memo.”
She smiled, proud of herself. She’d surprised me again. She was never one to stay in heels for very long, so she slipped them off and tiptoed barefoot to the champagne where she struggled with the cork, eventually popping it to the ceiling. The bubbles overflowed the bottle. She poured two glasses, then handed me the box.
Summer, usually confident, was sweating on a cold night, and the vein in her temple was throbbing. I didn’t know what I was getting into or quite where this was headed, so I did the smart thing and kept my mouth shut. That way I didn’t put my foot in it.
She clinked my glass. “To us.”
“To us.”
She sipped. “Now open it.”
I felt like I was being baited, but I had little choice, so I slowly unwrapped the perfectly wrapped package, which, incidentally, was about the exact same size as the last package. I pulled back the paper, revealing a cardboard box. Nothing fancy. So I opened one end and slid out a picture frame. I smiled, anticipating holding it up and finding my wife filling the frame in the beautiful, selfless way she had the first time—but what I found was Summer holding a mirror.
She said, “Hold it up.”
I obeyed and held the frame like I had before so that she filled it. Only, unlike last time, she then held up the mirror, which filled the frame... with me.
Again, I knew better than to open my mouth and prove how utterly incompetent I was in the ways of romance, so rather than speak and confirm her suspicions, I said nothing.
She sipped and smirked. “You like it?”
I nodded. Expressing how underwhelmed I was. “Yes, very much.”
She laughed out loud. “Liar.”
“Well, okay, maybe I did like the last one a bit more.”
“Good answer.”
She secured the mirror in the frame and handed it back, forcing me to look into it again. “Who do you see?”
I figured this was a trick question, so the less I said the better. “I see me.”
“Who is he?”
“Murph.”
“Good. Here, have a sip from your sippy cup. Maybe it’ll loosen your tongue.”
I did as ordered.
“And who is Murph?”
“Just a dude.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Here, drink all of this. Now, try again. Third time’s a charm. Who do you see?”
“I see your husband.”
Both eyebrows rose. “Hmm. Closer. Doing better.” She poured me a second glass of bubbly. “Have some more liquid courage. Evidently you need it when it comes to romantic talk.”
“Lest you’ve forgotten, I’ve written a handful of rather successful books that have been pegged as ‘romantic thrillers,’ and I do have a rather large worldwide following of primarily female readers.”
She downed her own glass and poured herself a second. “Yep. And if they saw you in this moment, they’d quit reading. So it’ll be our secret. Keep going.”
This was making me uncomfortable, so I thought I’d try the honest approach. “Honey, I know you’re trying to get at something, but the chances of me saying something stupid are nearing 100 percent and I don’t want to blow it.”
She giggled and tapped her teeth with her fingernail. “Strange how you are so good at kicking down doors, but when I open one for you, you’re all thumbs.” She returned the mirror to my eye level. “Keep going.”
“Repeat the question.”
“You’re stalling. Who do you see?”
“I promise I just see me.”
“And who is he?”
“The one who loves you with his whole heart?”
“Close. And nice try. I’ll even give you a B for effort. But try again.”
About here, I got an inkling of what she was digging at. The same thing she’d been digging at for months. She’d just had to peel off the layers to get at it. “I see a man who has spent his life walking back across the battlefield to rescue the wounded.”
She nodded. “Now we’re starting to get it. And did I fall in love with that man? ”
“You did.”
“Has anything changed?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“And come tomorrow morning, what is the man in this mirror going to do?”
“Same thing.”
“Correct.” She scooted around beside me, her cheek pressed to mine. Our faces filled the frame. “Now what do you see?”
“I see us.”
“Anything wrong with this picture?”
“Nothing.”
“Now, no matter what I do, don’t take your eyes off the image.” With that, she turned, held my face in her hands, and kissed my cheek. Then she kissed it again, holding it a long time. “What do you see now?”
“I see you kissing my face.”